Downpour.

The rain poured down heavily to the earth, wetting the grounds, which made the atmosphere cold, resulting to an unbearable night.

 A man was spotted under the immense downpour, cladded on a yellow raincoat and pairs of black heavy-duty boots. His name was Hank Miller, a night guard at the Frasers' museum. He had taken a night off, after receiving a distressed call, that his three years old daughter was admitted in a hospital. He took the night off, to go be by her side, given that he was her only parent. Since he had lost his wife during child labor, and he became the only family his little daughter had.

  He had risked coming out this late at night cause he couldn't slide the thought of leaving her all by herself. 

 Earlier this morning she had complained bitterly to him of stomach offset and headaches. But he thought those weren't major illnesses, so leaving her to the babysitter's care was his only option. Yet the minor illness had gotten her to the hospital bed. If only he had paid more attention to her cries, he wouldn't be risking his life walking through the lonely street in the middle of the night.

Squash!

 His heavy boots trampled onto a small pond of gathered dirty water, splashing ripples all over. Miller was totally ignorant of his environment, the only thought that ran heavily in his heart, was the thought of arriving at the hospital faster. 

 The rain streamed down from the hoodie down to the coat, with the harsh wind trying every second to blow off the hood over his head, but his continuous hand support, has helped wedge the hood from the pressure of the wind, keeping it in check. The same harsh wind, blew the rain drastically to his face, making it hard for him to locate or identify his paths.

  Miller spotted an alleyway, that led to the other side of the road, to another street that led directly to the the Care foundation hospital, cutting half his journey.

"Finally, a shortcut." He whispered. He immediately crossed the road without attempting to look through his left or right, the entire street was empty, he didn't see the use of applying safety road regulations, especially in his current situation.

  Walking through the dark alley, he felt a rush of fear surge from within his spine, not that he was afraid, the alley wasn't all that dark, he could still see his way through it, and having to had grew up in the town, he was use to all nook and cranny of the town, ranging from every corners, subway station, resident and even the sewers. Growing up, him and his friends explored all kinds of games which led to the memorization of the entire town.

 But the chills he felt wasn't natural, this wasn't the fear for his poor child, it wasn't panicking at all. Rather it was the fear of another presence in his midst.

 He hastened his footsteps, surveying his surroundings immediately. But the more he felt that he was approaching the end of the narrow path, the more his fears grew. His heartbeat increased drastically, but he couldn't spot a single person.

 His body had already interpreted the situation he was passing through. He somehow was amidst a malevolent entity.

"Is..is anybody there?" Miller stammered, he could no longer hide his fears anymore. He stopped, awaiting a reply. But none came.

"Maybe am just overreacting." He concluded, continuing his walk.

Two small dull lights, glowed in the dark, miller became puzzled. Getting the feeling that he was being pranked.

"Hello, who's there? If this is a trick, please quit it? My daughter was admitted in a hospital, I need to be by her side." He explained, hoping his words reached the trickster. At least that was what he thought.

The two lights suddenly approached him slowly. Miller didn't know how to react, he knew the world was filled with crazy people, who find pleasure in tormenting others. Let alone the psychopath, who enjoyed killing their fellow human being. At that moment he didn't know what to think towards, the only straight thought in his head was how to escape the alley. He wouldn't quite do well, if he attempted to run away, his entire body was cold from the rain's downpour, so if he were to run, he would be moving in a slow pace. And the stalker would have no problem gaining up on him.

 He made his choice. He hurriedly retrieved his cellphone from the pocket of the coat, swiping it open, and tapping the camera application.

  He noticed that the lights were drawing closer to him.

 "Stop! This is no joke, am gonna call the cops." He warned, but the lights didn't bulge, they kept approaching, slowly.

  Miller's phone flashed bright light onto the approaching dull lights, taking an immediate picture before the light from his phone went out again.

 He viewed the picture, and was immediately frightened by what graced upon his phone. There was nobody behind the two dull lights, and that those weren't lights. They were eyes! Two red, vicious ones.

His finger shakily swiped to the dial calls application, which he immediately filled with the emergency call number. Awaiting the call to be answered, the eyes had already reached him, and in that final minutes of life, his eyes gazed at an unpleasant figure.

'A monster!'

"Aaahh..! Someone help me." Miller breathed his last words as the creature devoured him. 

"Hello, this is 911, what's your emergency? Hello, hello, is anyone still there?" A voice came from the other side of the line, through the cellphone. Not getting a reply, the receiver hanged up.

******

Two eyes shut open processing it's environment, before blinking twice to adjust to the brightness in the surroundings. A bed, a reading desk and chair with books piled on top of the desk, a closet, red marble floors, this environment was very familiar to the individual. Yes, this was the room of Alexander Vincent, a 16 years highschooler.

"It was a dream." Vincent heaved a deep sigh of relief. He had had this dream of finally approaching his crush at school, and confessing his feelings for her to her, pouring out every detail. But instead of getting a warm cuddle of acceptance, just like every novel would dictate, he was rather welcomed with a hot slap to his cheeks. And was further denialed by her. He felt ashamed cause everyone in school had watched the entire show, they all mocked and made fun of him. He was petrified, were girls always this cruel, instead of responding that she doesn't share a mutual feeling such as his, she went too far to embarrass him in public, surely she felt too high of herself.

 She even did him the honors of introducing her boyfriend to his face. An older boy with an athletic physique. Probably a gymnast, or maybe his father owns a gym. He didn't care.

What bothered him was all the trouble he had to go through before maning up enough to approach her, and he got a spit to the face as a reward for his courage. This attempt was just a dream, but he still felt the shame in real life. Surely with this dream's experience, he had learnt a valuable lesson, he was never going to try it in real life.

Bing!Bing!

 The alarm clock rang continuously, interrupting Vincent's thoughts. The latter sized the clock up, frowning.

"What's the use of an alarm clock, if I always wake up before it rings." Vincent complained, he jolted off his bed, heading towards the bathroom.

 Fourteen minutes later, the lad walked down the stairs, heading to the dinning room, he was now cladded in his school uniform, a white short sleeved shirt, a dark blue tie, a dark blue trousers, a pair of white shoes, and a backpack held in his grisp.

 "Good morning Mom." Vincent greeted his mother, who was busy moving the food from the kitchen to the dinning table.

 

  "Morning dear, up early as usual!" She commented, a faint smile escaping her lips. "Have your seat, breakfast would be served in no minutes."

"Alright mom." Vincent replied, taking a sit, as he examined the table and it's wonders.

 The aroma from the meals were excruciating, he felt like to already start digging in, but his manners didn't permit him, even when he felt like he was drooling. Surely this sweet aroma that sent pleasant messages to his stomach, was one of his mother's recipes he was very familiar with. The spicy chicken soup porridge and boiled rice, one of his favorite.

Vincent mother dished the meals, and they both ate happily. The family had tried their possible best to maintain happiness and joy, after the death of Vincent's father. He was part of the military, and one day he didn't return home, the next thing was his name announced amongst others, to have encountered a bombing and didn't survive it. The news of Vincent's father's death, hit the family badly, as they mourned bitterly for years, before concluding that they needed to stay strong, and keep living. And ever since then, they've been keeping that promise.

    Vincent could no longer continue eating, even when the meal was so delicious, he was completely full, and his stomach could no longer house even a bit.

 "Off I go mom. See you!" Vincent bids his mother goodbye, as he dashed out of the house, after hearing a signal coming from outside the house. He hurriedly ran down the stairs of the four storey building, as he greeted their neighbors on the way.

  "Hey Vincent, what took you long. Usually its you signaling us from our respective homes." Brian, a friend of Vincent inquired. He was same age as Vincent, but was taller.

"Don't feel too big Brian, given that I was the one who went to call you out. You've never been earlier then any of us." Jordan, Vincent's closest friend defended him.

"His right though, Jordan." Vincent responded. "Well I had this weirdest dream."

"Care to share?" Brian immediately interrupted, he loved listening to tales.

"I don't mind!" Vincent exclaimed, as the three friends walked together to school.

The young lads jest, as they made their way to school. Vincent had narrated his dream to them, and they've both given their interpretation to it.

"Geez, she slapped you in the dream. That means trouble, just stay clear from her cause I believe it would be more than a slap in reality." Brian said, giving his on explanation to Vincent's nightmare. Probably that was what Brian called it. A nightmare!

"Maybe your dream means that she slapped you because you didn't approach her sooner, and the gymnast meant that she had replaced you, and the laughing and mockery, is the unending sadness and loneliness you would encounter after it. So my advice to you is to approach now. Don't screw up." Jordan advised, the duo stared at him in confusion.

"When did you become a love therapist?" They questioned simultaneously. 

"Am not, have you forgotten that I and my family occasionally go for fortune and future readings. That's where I learnt the serious impression." Jordan joked, as the three of them laughed uncontrollably.

"How was it though?" Brian inquired.

"Trust me, it sucked." Jordan assured.

 The three of them arrived at a path where the police were running certain investigation. It was a crime scene, though the murderer wasn't known, and no witnesses. They'd lined the entrance and exit of the alleyway with labels, restricting civilians from interrupting the ongoing investigation. 

 

 A cop was addressing another cop, he was probably relaying the findings of the investigation to him. The three teenagers stopped to eavesdrop on their conversation.

 "An emergency call was made by the victim, Hank Miller, during 11:45pm. Though he was unable to complete the call before the disaster. We acquire information from his place of work that he had received a distress call that his three years old daughter was admitted in the hospital. But his daughter was never admitted, and his babysitter claims that she never made such calls. Infact she claims she didn't make any calls. I believe the murderer had somehow manipulated the victim into falling to his trap, using the loved one of the victim as a bait." The officer narrated his gathered up information to the detective.

"I see, I need all files concerning this incident." The detective requested.

"Sure yes. But whoever the murderer is, I think it's beyond our perspective. A supernatural otherworldly being, for what was left of the victim was just bits. It's more like the victim encountered a wild animal, rather than a human." The cop inclined.

"What are you inclining?" The detective asked, making an eye contact with the cop.

"I believe we should get those supernatural fellows to run the case. What are they called again? Right, the exorcists." The cop suggested.

"You want some madman and women to run the work of the beaure of justice. That proves that you're dumb as well." The detective cussed, walking away.

The three lads were completely puzzled, so during the heavy downpour that washed the town, a murder took place.